


Bury yourself where you’ll grow

by Rainbow_Sprinkles



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Death, Flowey sucks, Gen, Grief/Mourning, I have no idea where this came from, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Past Floweypot, Seventy years post Pacifist, but he's trying to not suck, but it's not all that sad, probably because the POV character is a soulless little shit, so here take it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 02:38:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10233863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainbow_Sprinkles/pseuds/Rainbow_Sprinkles
Summary: He gets there too late for the funeral, not that he would have wanted to attend anyway. What would he have done, sat there while everyone else cried and got to be sad? Gosh,thatsounds fun.Frisk dies. Flowey returns to his bereaved, ageless parents.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in a single day with minimal editing, so I apologize in advance for errors. It was supposed to be very short, but you know what, 5k words IS short for me. It kind of turned out to be a Flowey character study? And it kinda deviates a little from my usual style? I dunno. I dunno what to think, so tell me what you think.

He knows when it happens.

He doesn’t know why or how, but he knows what. And for a moment, he pauses, but – emptiness. What a surprise.

Maybe he feels a little emptier than usual, but the point still stands.

Flowey sighs. He has a long trip to make.

 

* * *

 

At least he’s on the same continent. He’s been all over the world by now – except for some parts unwelcoming to monsters or that have weather he wouldn’t last in.

He isn’t a monster, but humans don’t know how else to label him. He doesn’t know, either. A failed experiment? The empty shell of the former prince?

He tried living with Frisk after the barrier fell. He wasn’t enthusiastic about it, but the idiot showed up with a pot and a trowel and Flowey looked at it and said _oh GOLLY GEE you’ve got to me kidding me,_ but. Frisk is nothing if not determined, and Flowey invariably ended up in the pot and, an hour or so later, in Toriel’s house.

The monsters had apparently been given land at the base of the mountain. They built on it while the human world watched, mostly confused. Some of them were scared, but then again, it wasn’t like anyone carried Frisk’s body right into town to find a bed of golden flowers, because WOW that would have been even stupider a second time.

Flowey didn’t stay very long. Frisk tried to engage Flowey, tried to get their friends to engage Flowey – he even got to see his d – Asgore again, even though he and Toriel were doing their best to avoid one another outside of stupid political meetings with the humans.

Flowey wondered if he could do it. He didn’t know _exactly_ how many RESETs he’d gone through, but it was enough to know Sans was a piece of garbage, Papyrus was the most entertaining, and whatever had been between his parents was dead and gone. Like Chara. Like Asriel.

Just one more thing he killed that day.

But with the sheer number of RESETs, of course he’d managed to get his parents back together once or twice. It had required he explain to them who he was, whose memories he had, but it wasn’t _impossible_.

Flowey wondered whether he should do it, but he didn’t have a LOAD to fall back on if it didn’t work, or if he revealed himself and regretted it. So he didn’t.

Papyrus, once again, entertained him for the longest, but then Flowey grew bored.

And he knew what would happen if he stayed bored.

Frisk begged him not to go, but they accepted it, in the end. Flowey had been on his own for a long time. Travelling was no different.

He hit up cities first. He snuck into buildings and watched people and maybe occasionally tripped somebody or threw a bullet at a human’s head only to watch them turn around and yell at whoever was behind them and if a fight broke out that was just a bonus, hee hee hee.

The libraries were his favorite. He read for hours upon hours. Unlike the Underground, the surface seemed to have an unlimited supply of books. He could spend RESET after RESET reading and never get bored.

Humans sucked. That didn’t surprise him. Chara had told him that. But some of their stuff was pretty cool. Some of their places were _huge_ , the size of the Underground multiplied many times over.

Flowey knew he’d have to try really hard to get bored up here.

He moved on to areas that were less densely populated. Forests with massive trees reaching up to the sky. Mountains that were bigger than the cage his childhood had ended within. Oceans to cross. Fields of flowers he could hide in and never, ever be found, even if someone were searching for him.

Sometimes he wishes he could take root in one of those fields and just… stop. Sleep forever, or something.

Not die. He doesn’t want to die. Even as everything else changed, that hasn’t.

 

* * *

 

He didn’t make it back every year, or even every couple of years, but he always made it back.

And he was always shocked to see how Frisk had changed in the time he’d been gone.

He knew it was going to happen. Admittedly, Frisk didn’t look much like Chara to begin with – their skin and hair were darker, their jaw was shaped differently, everything about them was shorter, a little less lanky.

Frisk looked less like Chara the older they got. Flowey knew he would never know what Chara would look like all grown up. He knew what _he’d_ look like. Well – mostly. It was probably too much to expect Asriel would look just like the God of Hyperdeath, but it would have been _close_ , right? Yeah. No way would he have kept that baby-fat into adulthood.

He always reported the same thing back to Frisk. It was always _I’m fine, Frisk. I got to see so many new places and things. I haven’t killed anyone. I don’t want to kill anyone, I just want to keep seeing new things. Don’t you have anything better to do?_

Frisk would always get him to talk about it. They’d ask him what was his favorite place so far and why. They’d always do research for him and find some new place for him to go or thing for him to see.

They didn’t want him to get bored either.

It didn’t seem to matter to them that he was still technically a child and they were growing, growing teenager to young adult to middle-aged adult and then they were _old_ , and that was weird, but it never mattered to them. They were kind and patient with him all the same.

This is why he has to go back.

 

* * *

 

He gets there too late for the funeral, not that he would have wanted to attend anyway. What would he have done, sat there while everyone else cried and got to be sad? Gosh, _that_ sounds fun.

There is nothing in him. Nothing.

People are still talking about it. Maybe everyone seems a bit somber, like they’re sharing the mood, but Flowey can’t share, can’t read it that well, and doesn’t care.

Everywhere Flowey goes is exclusively human-populated, so it’s always kind of surprising to come back and see all these monsters. There are humans here too, but most of the monsters stayed here after the barrier broke. They decided to stick together.

His first stop is the Librarby, where he can access a computer. If people are talking about it, it should be all over the internet.

Yep. _Frisk Dreemurr, age 80. Died of natural causes._ Flowey skims over the rest. It is mostly a very long list of their achievements.

The last line catches his eye: _They are survived by their mother, Toriel, and their father, Asgore Dreemurr._

Why didn’t that occur to him? Of course his parents would still be alive. They haven’t aged since Asriel died.

They’ll probably never age. They had gotten shared custody of Frisk, but Flowey knows that was mostly to protect Frisk. Frisk tried – by golly, they tried – to get them back together, and when that failed, to get them to start seeing other people, but everything always fell through.

He sighs internally. He’ll find Toriel and Asgore and at least watch them for a bit. He doesn’t know if he’ll talk to them. When he came back he always went right to Frisk, so seeing his parents was more collateral than intentional. He doesn’t know if he knows how to talk to them without Frisk there.

He always explores the Underground, too, just to see what has changed. Change is almost as interesting as new things to him. It is something to keep him from getting bored.

As soon as he gets there, he stops.

He feels it. And he realizes why he knew it as soon as Frisk died.

Frisk had the powers. They’re dead. When they died, Flowey got them back, and now that he is in the Underground he has access to them again.

He turns around and gets out of there as fast as he can.

 

* * *

 

Flowey doesn’t freak out. He doesn’t. He _doesn’t_ freak out.

He goes to his mommy, but he was planning on that _anyway_. It’s fine. He’s fine. Everything is _fine_.

 

* * *

 

She looks faintly surprised when she opens her door. Same house. He wonders if she’ll change that, now that Frisk is dead.

“Oh,” she says. “Greetings, Flowey. I was not expecting you.”

There is a moment of awkward silence as they stare at one another.

Toriel finally sighs. “I… do not know if you have heard, but—”

“I know,” he interrupts. “I… wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh. Well, then, do come in, just… please wait a moment, I am sure your old pot is around here somewhere…”

He should have gone to his father first. Asgore would have had something ready immediately.

Toriel doesn’t spend much time searching. She returns with a bowl full of soil. It isn’t quite deep enough, but it’ll do temporarily.

He gets in and she picks him up and carries him into the living room. He marvels at the mess. His mom _despises_ mess, and here are papers and dirty dishes and unfolded blankets all over the place.

“I am sorry, I have not had the chance to clean up in a while.” She moves some papers off the coffee table – pictures of urns, he realizes, with price comparisons and color options and gosh, that’s so morbid, they were just sitting on the table like they belonged there.

She sets him down. “I hate to rush you, but I have company coming over soon. You may come back later, if you prefer. We can have a meal, if you do not mind take-out.”

Take-out? His mother is eating _take-out_??

“Who’s coming over?” he asks. He knows who it’s not – Sans and Alphys have been gone for some time now.

“Asgore,” she replies. “We are going to—” she cuts herself off, raising a suddenly trembling hand to her mouth. Her eyes are bright. “I am sorry. Please allow me a moment to compose myself.”

She stands and shuffles into the kitchen and Flowey stares after her, baffled. His mom doesn’t _cry_. His dad does, sometimes, but his mom doesn’t, and come on, Frisk died, like, over a week ago, shouldn’t she be fine by now? Shouldn’t she have adopted some other kid already?

Not that he ever understood. He barely – he absorbed Chara’s soul as soon as they died and not even an hour later they were both—

He spots it. It’s on the mantle of the fireplace.

All he can think is that it’s perfect. It’s rounded, not quite as tall as he is. It’s blue and there is a single magenta stripe near the bottom and two more near the top.

Toriel comes back right on time to notice him staring at it. “Frisk wanted their ashes to be spread Underground,” she says quietly. “Where they first met their friends and family. Asgore and I are going to follow the path they took. We will leave a little of them in the city, too. They worked so hard to help us build it; they deserve to live on within it.”

Flowey rips his gaze away from the urn. “What about – Undyne, and Papyrus?” he blurts. “Are they coming?”

“No, young one,” she responds. “They both passed a few years ago.”

 _Papyrus_ is gone? Papyrus seemed like he was going to live _forever_.

His mother’s gaze turns sympathetic. “Would you like me to tell you what happened in your most recent absence?”

 

* * *

 

Undyne and Papyrus became roommates after Sans and Alphys died. Toriel says they had a lot of fun and got Frisk to have fun, too, even though they were all old by that time.

Undyne went first, and not even a month later, Papyrus fell down. Shortly after, Frisk’s health began to fade.

They’d had crappy health for decades. Frisk said it was part of being old. But apparently it got so bad that Toriel finally retired from her job at the school to stay home and take care of them. Asgore helped – he did landscaping work for the park and school, but it didn’t take up a lot of his time.

The funeral turnout was enormous. It was mostly monsters, but there were many humans there, too. Frisk had always been well-loved. At least after the barrier broke. They never told him outright, but… Flowey knows they weren’t loved before they fell into the Underground.

“I made the same offer to Mettaton and Napstablook, and I will make it to you,” she says when she finishes. “Would you like to come with Asgore and me to spread Frisk’s ashes?”

Ghosts have longer lifespans. Figures they’re still alive. Though, with Alphys gone, Flowey wonders how long Mettaton’s body can last.

He feels – something. Something he doesn’t like coils in his stem, like he has a gut or something, makes him – makes him want to kill something? No, that’s not right. Makes him want to go somewhere else. No, not that either.

At this point, what does he have to lose?

Instead of answering, he says, “I need to talk to you and Asgore when he gets here.”

 

* * *

 

He remembers Chara, all crumpled on the ground when he found them. They wobbled to their feet, favoring an arm, lopsided.

Asriel half-carried them home, but he didn’t mind. They needed help, they were hurt. He had to help them.

He didn’t understand then and he wouldn’t understand later. His mom healed Chara’s injuries, but they were still broken inside. They were still hurt.

He didn’t understand why they hid under the bed sometimes. He didn’t understand why they wouldn’t let him hug or touch them sometimes. He didn’t understand why they cut their skin open, why they woke up screaming and sobbing, why sometimes they just couldn’t eat.

He never even understood why they killed themself, and he tried to do the same.

He tried because it wasn’t worth living in a world without love. Without them.

When they killed themself, he was there, Mom and Dad were there, they didn’t have to ask for anything. He was there as _himself_ , as Asriel, and Asriel loved them with everything he had. How could they want to die, with all of that?

He understands better now.

It’s never about wanting to die. It’s always about not wanting to live.

 

* * *

 

When Asgore arrives, Flowey tells them, and they can’t believe him at first but then he tells them things only Asriel would know and they have to believe him.

And Asgore reaches for him, and Flowey lets the big monster hug him as best he can, and he feels _nothing_ , he feels _empty empty empty_ , but he knows better than to expect differently at this point.

They don’t understand the timeline stuff. They probably think he went insane. That’s okay. They understand the soullessness thing, and that’s what he needs them to understand.

They apologize for everything, but mostly for not noticing it was him. That’s okay, too, because he didn’t want them to know.

Toriel finds something in the cabinets and starts to cook. Asgore straightens up the living room. Flowey sits on the counter and watches them.

Flowey doesn’t need to eat, but he likes to. Tasting isn’t quite the same as feeling, but it’s _something_. Something this body can do.

This is how they end up sitting awkwardly around the table. Like a _family_. Yeah, right. None of them fit correctly in these spaces. They don’t go together. They don’t know each other anymore.

All of them chew their food too much to keep the conversation to a minimum.

When they are done, Flowey clears his nonexistent throat and says, “I want to come with you when you spread Frisk’s ashes. And I want to do it today.”

He’s sure they wouldn’t have agreed this quickly if they didn’t know he was their son.

 

* * *

 

That feeling creeps right back into his stem when they begin the walk Underground.

He has Asgore put the bowl down and he gets out, stretching his roots out in natural soil. This is so familiar to him. All his old tunnels. He knows exactly how to navigate this place.

Don’t look at it, he tells himself sternly. Don’t look at it don’t look at it don’t look at your SAVE file, you idiot.

Toriel is in front, carrying Frisk’s urn, and Asgore is in the back, with Flowey in the middle. They didn’t understand the timeline stuff, so Flowey didn’t tell them about all the times he killed them. Killed everyone.

He isn’t sure if he needs to. He told them he can’t and will never be able to love them. They assured him it didn’t matter, which isn’t right because it is the ONLY thing that matters.

Ugh. He doesn’t know if he can get through this.

They start at the Ruins. Toriel gently opens Frisk’s urn and sprinkles a little bit of ash on the spot where they fell. Where Chara fell.

They turn around and go back the way they came. His parents can’t really look at one another when they go through their old house. Flowey kind of wants to roll his eyes and say _I was the one who died, and look at you two,_ but even if he can’t fathom how that would hurt them he knows it would and he promised Frisk he’d try so he keeps his mouth shut.

Toriel sprinkles just a little bit in the forest and in Snowdin. Some on the doorstep of what used to be Sans and Papyrus’s house. They go into Waterfall and then Hotland and the whole time, Flowey makes sure not to look too closely at the burnt pieces of Frisk poured from the urn. He doesn’t want to see that.

When they reach the old throne room, Toriel hands the urn to Asgore and he spreads some ash around the garden. Flowey wonders who maintains it now, though he wouldn’t put it past his dad to come down here just to do it himself.

Asgore hands the urn back. Before they leave the mountain, Flowey caves and looks at his SAVE file.

His last SAVE was moments before Frisk fell.

 

* * *

 

At first, he thought there was some value in trying. He promised Frisk he would. He’d try to care, he’d act like he did.

He had no soul, but the memories of being Asriel, of feeling love, were fresh. He held onto those with all he had.

Frisk involved him in as much as they could. They even took him along when they had ambassador duties sometimes. That ended after Flowey hissed at a few people. Frisk scolded him, and he snarked, “They’re allowed to glare at you, but I’m not allowed to hiss at them? They’re _grown-ups_ , they should _already_ know how to behave.”

Undyne later told him he embarrassed the adult human politicians and that it was awesome, but it still made Frisk leave him at home.

Frisk reintroduced him to everyone. Papyrus already knew him and was ecstatic to see him. Sans wasn’t, and let Flowey know that, but after that he backed off. As long as Flowey was nice, he’d be nice.

Alphys didn’t know who he was, but she knew what he was. Luckily she didn’t pry. Undyne was very suspicious of him until he embarrassed those politicians. Then she decided he was cool. Asgore and Toriel accepted him, but only because Frisk wanted them to.

He didn’t try to love, because he knew the futility of that endeavor, but he tried to be involved with others. He asked Frisk how their day was, offered to help people do things when he _could_ help, which wasn’t often, and let others pat him on the head or give him a hug. That last one was usually only Frisk and Papyrus. If any strangers tried to touch him he’d try to bite their fingers, because _golly_ , how would they like it if he tried to poke them in the face?

But he started to get bored.

He tried to find things to do, things that might be interesting to him, but exposure to new things was the only thing that could hold his attention, and, stuck in one place, he rapidly ran out of new things.

He talked with Frisk about it for a long, long time. Frisk tried to help him. They wanted him to stay. They called him their friend.

Asriel was their friend. Flowey couldn’t have friends. If you can’t care about people, you can’t have friends.

But Frisk – made him _want_ to be friends. He saw what they had with others and he wanted it, too, even though he knew his soullessness meant he couldn’t have it. They made him want to care about them, they made him want to feel their love when they hugged him.

That was dangerous. Looking for new things and places would not be dangerous. He was unable to become emotionally invested in anything, and new things would keep him from being bored. That was the best he could get.

Frisk cried when he told them he was sure. Flowey didn’t know what he’d expected.

They wiped their streaming eyes and said, “I’ll support your decision, if th-this is what you need. I – I’m just going to miss you.”

Miss him. They were going to miss him.

Flowey could miss someone. He’d missed Chara when he came back and they were still dead. He’d missed Chara for RESETs upon RESETs upon RESETs.

He still missed Chara.

He wasn’t sure if this was true, but he opened his mouth and said, “I’m going to miss you too, Frisk, but I have to go.”

Frisk smiled at him. He felt – something. Gosh, he was terrible at this.

He let them hug him. “You have to come back,” they said. “Everywhere you go, everything you see, you’ll have to come back and tell me about it.”

“I will.”

“And you’ll – you’ll have to promise you’ll try to be good. It’s like you told me. Don’t kill, and don’t be killed. That’s the best you can strive for.”

He leaned into Frisk’s hug. “I’ll try. I promise.”

 

* * *

 

Toriel spreads the last of Frisk’s ashes over a bed of golden flowers in the park. When she’s done, Asgore steps up next to her and takes her hand. She glances at him, but doesn’t pull away.

It’s weird to see. It’s even weirder to want to step up between them and take each of their hands in his own. He doesn’t have hands. He can’t do that anymore.

“Flowey,” Asgore says. “Are you planning to stay?”

He’s about to snap out _I won’t be your replacement child for Frisk_ when he realizes it was a question. “If you are,” Asgore continues, “you may stay with me for as long as you wish.” He glances sidelong at Toriel. “That is, if—”

“No, you are right,” Toriel interrupts softly. “Your home is better equipped for Flowey, Asgore. And I need some time to myself. My own home could use some tidying up.” She looks down at him and smiles sadly. “Though I would certainly come to visit you if you chose that, my child.”

“It is okay if you wish to leave, too,” Asgore says. “We would like you to stay for a little while, but we understand that you have been on your own for a very long time. You have done a fine job of taking care of yourself, so we would not expect you to indulge us by allowing us to care for you.”

Are they over Asriel? He can’t tell. Maybe they don’t want to get too close to this thing that cannot love them like Asriel did. Maybe they will continue to mourn Asriel even with him here, because he is not Asriel.

“I don’t know,” he responds, because he doesn’t. Does he wish he’d been here for Frisk’s death? It wouldn’t have made a difference. They would have died anyway.

“How about you stay the night?” Asgore suggests. “You can always decide later.”

They aren’t going to let up unless he gives them a real answer. “Sure,” he says. “But I need to go back to the Underground first.”

Toriel nods. “Certainly, my child. You know where we are if you need us. We hope you find what you are looking for.”

 

* * *

 

Flowey practically storms through the Underground. Nobody is down here past Newer Home anymore. Everything is old and falling apart.

The echo flowers are silent.

Flowey rears back and uses some vocabulary he learned from Chara. “DAMN IT, FRISK!”

The flowers pick up his shrieks, tossing the sound back and forth. It slowly fades out, becomes quiet. Whispers.

“YOU SUCK!!” Flowey screeches. Their ashes are all over this place, they should be able to hear him, right? “WHY’D YOU HAVE TO DIE, HUH!? MOM AND DAD ARE ALL LONELY AND _I_ DON’T WANNA TAKE CARE OF THEM! THAT WAS YOUR JOB!! I ASKED YOU TO DO THAT FOR ME!!!”

He pauses to pant for a moment. The echo flowers shout back at him, and maybe he should turn the volume down a smidge before he tires himself out. “They’re not happy like this!!” he yells at the flowers. At what’s left of Frisk. “They’re never going to _be_ happy like this! They can’t age and that sucks! They have to outlive all their friends and family over and over and over!! Why even bother loving anyone when you know they’re going to die before you, huh!? Why—”

He breaks off, making a noise that sounds suspiciously like crying, but it’s not because he doesn’t cry, he _can’t_ cry, Asriel was a crybaby but Flowey is _not_.

He makes himself stop, but he knows where it was going. It sucks to watch everyone else grow up and get older and die. He has stayed the same since he came back as a flower. Because Asriel died, he won’t ever get to grow up and his parents won’t ever get to age.

Could it be better? Could this whole thing have been better?

It’s been pretty good, overall. Monsters are living on the surface. It has been fairly peaceful. It wasn’t ever going to be completely peaceful, not with how much Chara hated humanity. That meant there were at least some bad humans on the surface and the monsters were and still are the easiest targets for their hate.

It’s been good for monsters, but not for his parents. They got to take care of Frisk, but they had to watch them grow old and die while they stayed the same. That’s _horrible_. When does it end? Will they just be immortal forever?

No. Not forever.

“I WAS OKAY!!” Flowey bellows. Or he tries to bellow, it comes out squeaky and high-pitched, which is embarrassing. He always has complete control over his facial expressions and voice. “I WASN’T EVER GOING TO BE HAPPY, BUT I WASN’T BORED! I GOT TO SEE NEW PLACES AND LEARN NEW THINGS AND YOU _SUCK_ , FRISK!!”

He wasn’t bored, but what he said about his parents applies to him, too. He’ll stay this way, forever. Eventually he’ll see the whole world. Eventually he’ll run out of stuff to keep him from getting bored.

And when that happens?

His parents aren’t going to live forever because he’ll probably kill everyone. He can’t trust himself not to want to see what happens when he kills literally _everyone on the planet._

He’s annoyed at his own squeaky voice coming out of the nearest echo flower, so he fires a bullet at it, tearing a hole through one of its petals. It quiets, the echoes fading to whispers.

“DAMN IT!!!” he curses again, but it does nothing to make him feel better.

Nothing he ever does makes him feel better. He is incapable of _feeling better_.

…Could it have gone differently?

Nobody knows better than him just how varied RESETs can be. He’d done absolutely everything when he was in control.

So yes, it can get better. Better for his parents, at least.

This gives him pause. If he wants a better future for them… what does that mean? He’s never genuinely wanted something for someone else before. Not like this. Not as a soulless flower.

Would anyone remember this? Chances are no one else would. Maybe not even Frisk, since they’re dead.

Would Flowey remember this?

He doesn’t know. He hasn’t ever gone this far back. Seventy years. It will be new.

“Sorry, Frisk,” he says aloud. “But you can do better, can’t you? We can all do better. Try harder.”

The echo flowers are silent. They do not toss his own voice back at him.

“I could have tried harder, too,” he admits.

That’s more than true. Just thinking about it scares him. It’s scary to try and fail and not have a LOAD to fall back on when he inevitably screws up. He’s used to it, he’s used to the SAVEs and LOADs and RESETs. Not having the ability again will be hard, but…

He’s going to have to let it go.

“I’m going to try harder,” he announces. The echo flowers pick up his pledge and throw it back at him, but he doesn’t wilt because he isn’t lying. It’s true. He doesn’t know whether he’ll succeed, whether everyone will succeed, but they have to try, don’t they?

It _can_ be better than this.

“I’m counting on you, Frisk,” he says. “You help me try, and I’ll help you do better. I’ll try to help. That’s what friends do, right?”

For the first time, Flowey feels something like hope, and he LOADs.


End file.
